Aug 29, 2011

Yes! It's true - I survived last week's filming. It was fucking awesome, but I think I was running on adrenaline for the better part of the week because I completely crashed over the weekend. I edited three photos from the shoot and I needed to take a nap.

Photos will be going up on Wednesday, by the way, so... easy there, killers. I know you all cannot wait though! Or maybe it's just me thinking that you can't wait, when, in fact, it's just me. I enjoy the fantasy though - so I'm going to stick with that delusion.

At the same time as I was being a busy little music video director/producer on Friday, Marianas Trench released their latest grand production for their single Haven't Had Enough. It's so fucking camp; I love it. Josh is ridiculous - it needs to be said. He had me at the lame French 'stache in the first scene. Also? His over-dramatics when the silver mime lunges at him. Hi-larious.

I have a new found appreciation for these productions now. When I saw this on Friday, aside from the comedy, all I could think of was how much effort and planning it must have took to produce this grand spectacle. A whole fucking lot, that's how much. I got tired just thinking about it.

If I get more opportunities to do other directing and/or producing, I'll have to find a way to get a better quality of sleep somehow...
or start drinking more.

Aug 26, 2011

It's about that time again folks!
Enjoy these titillating tales and have a fabulous weekend :)

1. Quick on the Draw
Ok, so hubby and I have an open relationship. One of my shall we say turn ons is guys in uniform. So lucky me hubby was a firefighter and many of them happened to be EMTs. One of them decided he could handle me...

Ummm, yeah.

So he shows up one night to show off at his bedroom skills and he was on duty. The instant the tones dropped (a term used for setting off alarms to call for ambulances firetrucks, etc.) so did he. I mean, literally one second it was there, the next it was gone. Being the wife of a firefighter, I could honestly say that was not usually the case. I mean, adrenaline tends to keep things pumping. Yeah not for him...

Yeah... that's where our lit'l tale begins, because with bedroom eyes and my fiery hot index finger, my partner and I discovered the true meaning of a hot ass.

Sparing the details, I can say this story ends realz badz, with me standin in a state of limp dick and my honey with an inflamed rectum. So sorry honey! So sorry that my jalapeno approach fell flat... some guacamole recipe! Left me feeling guilty/empty AND having to deal with 2 sets of blue balls!

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If you have a 'quickie' story, then please send it to me here! It can be 100% anonymous if you like - just don't fill out the name & email field - it will STILL send if those aren't filled, yo!

Aug 24, 2011

When the fabulous Carri Brown over at Mommy's Little Monster Blake suggested that one of Mama Kat's writing prompts have to do with BACON. Seriously, how could I resist that? How could anyone, really?

I'll just cut right to it then, shall I?Here are the Top 10 Reasons why bacon is so fucking awesome:

1. It's likely the only substance that is greasier than my face, so, right there, it's a self esteem booster.

2. Not only is there a type called Canadian Bacon, but it's also a movie that stars John Candy and Rip Torn.

3. When it gets hot, the fat just melts right off - IF ONLY IT WAS THAT EASY! This point makes me slightly jealous of bacon.

4. It is a food item I can easily arrange to have exactly 4 pieces of; this appeases my OCD very nicely.

5. Not very many foods can rock both ketchup AND maple syrup. Preferably not at the same time, but condiment cross-contaminant bleeds are known to occur and yet, it's still scrumptious.

6. It's stripey and stripes are so hot right now.

7. One of the best quotes from Dazed and Confused refers to it: Now fry like bacon, you little freshman piggies. FRY!

8. Did you know George Washington insisted the American flag be made to resemble strips of bacon?
TRUE STORY... well, it's on YouTube, so it must be true, right? Dammit! This has created a rare moment when I wished I was American. Apparently, there's a Bacon Party.

9. There is a company billboard I pass frequently for URBA CON (an urban development company) - but the way their logo is,
(to me) it reads U-R-BACON... I love it and it makes me hungry every time I drive by it.

10. Without bacon, scallops are nothing but fishy rubber marshmallows. It is only when the scallop is wrapped in a blanket of bacon goodness that it truly becomes a divine and delectable h'orderve.

Aug 22, 2011

It's about that time that I need to do one of my not at all famous triple run-down of shit that's been going on and also this time, it's to spill a little bit of beans about a project I have been working frantically on.

Firstly, the last Monday Music Moves Me that I did was 2 weeks ago. It was for Mary Me Jane, and it was a song called Twenty-one. Then, last week, I got a giant comment to which I first scanned through quickly as I was a bit confused but then I calmed down and re-read it, realizing it was actually from Amanda Kravat, the lead singer from Mary Me Jane. Holy Mutha Fucking Shit! It was awesome and a real honor to have her check out what I had to say and for HER to actually thank ME for posting it. She's so lovely! No, Amanda. Thank YOU for writing such powerful lyrics and incredible songs that I have loved for so many years. I cannot wait to hear your new material, truly!

Secondly, although I have been dropping hints every now and then about actors, filming, and vague references to videos on The Twitter, I am, in fact directing and producing a music video this week, starting tomorrow! More importantly, the concept of the video is based on my story of Jim - our past and the 'alternate ending' I had written. It's all so very exciting and also ridiculously over-whelming. If I ever post again after today, you'll know I've remotely survived this experience.

Thirdly, this week's theme is School. I'm sure there are others that I'm not thinking of at the moment. My mind has pretty much been on a single track until this week is over, so after thinking of this song almost immediately, I was done. Not only is it another song from my Canadian boys, Hedley (whom I've mentioned before here) but this song is about how we grow up too fast. It reminisces on when we were young and 'how cavalier we use to be, that beautiful insanity'. I think considering the content I will be immersing myself into for the next 4 days, I believe it's perfect.

Aug 19, 2011

My first half of grade 12 was strolling along nicely, I was doing OK but then just after mid-terms I started feeling incredibly tired... all the time. This wasn’t the normal tiredness that often afflicts teenagers – it was a super-natural force of anti-energy and I was powerless to fight it. My mother was on my case for a couple weeks and then even she couldn’t ignore that it wasn’t like me to be this way. She took me to the doctor and he concluded that I had a pretty bad case of Mono (Glandular Fever). All I could really do is stay home from school and sleep.

Hummm... I think that can be arranged! I did get some of the important assignments sent home for me to do, but for the most part, it was just me, my pyjamas and Days of Our Lives.Anyway, after the month was up, I went back to the doctor and apparently I was fine to go back to school, but my spleen was enlarged. This is a common symptom of Mono, but mine was really, really swollen. It was actually noticeable through my body – so gross! My instructions were simple – go to school, but that’s it! No sports.No basketball.No hockey.No volleyball.Noooo sports! He stressed it about 3 more times before I left his office. Thanks! I think I got it; no sports!When I got back, it was nice seeing all my friends again. A month in high school time was a like an entire season of 90210 – I missed so much! I talked to a few on the phone, but it definitely wasn’t the same. At lunch break, I finally got to see Justin.

Oh, Justin.

He was 6’11” of pure hotness with crystal blue eyes and a smile that set my pants on fire. I would have gladly contracted my Mono from him, but sadly my sexual liaisons with Justin occurred only in my head. We were really close friends, of course - story of my fucking life. He was not hard to miss since he towered over most people at school; I saw him near the gym doors at the end of the hall. I yelled for him before he entered the gym. “JUSTIN!”He looked over and shot me one of his million dollar smiles. “Heeeey! Look who’s finally decided to come back to the land of the living!” He ran towards me and swept me off my feet, literally. He gave me a bear hug and then threw me over his shoulder, into the fireman’s hold. A few of the other basketball guys were there and they all thought it was entertaining. Of course, I loved every second of this hands-on attention. He opened the doors that led outside and tossed me into a tall snow bank. We both had a good laugh and then we went inside together. I sat on the bench and watched them – since I wasforbiddento play.I started to feel uncomfortable later that afternoon and by the time I got home, I was hunched over it absolute agony; I could hardly walk. My mother arrived home to find me curled up in the foetal position and screaming in pain, so she took me to the hospital. I was still crying and wincing when they put me on to the gurney.My doctor was there; he pursed his lips in disappointment, “You were playing sports, weren’t you! I knew it. I knnnnnew you wouldn’t listen to me.”“No! I promise! I haven’t... Owwww! I didn’t... Ahhhhh!”“THEN WHAT DID YOU DO TODAY?”I really couldn’t concentrate long enough to think about what I did... and then it finally hit me... Justin’s bear hug. I told the doctor and he rolled his eyes profusely. My spleen was like an over-inflated water balloon and when Justin hugged me,it popped.Well... in reality, it was more like a tear. I had to be admitted into the hospital but at least they didn’t need to operate – luckily. I stayed doped up on pain medication (maybe a bit more than I actually needed) and there I was... for yet another week off school... although this time I got daily phone calls from Justin (fuelled by guilt no doubt, but his concern for me was heaven) and the second best part?

I was back watching Days of Our Lives, which I must say, whilst high on Demerol, was marvelously more entertaining .

Aug 15, 2011

I've been doing a lot of thinking about how our bodies work and in particular, how women's bodies work. Last year, I started becoming a lot more aware of what we are capable of... whether it's hidden deep within ourselves or not - it's there - somewhere. The more I try to achieve certain levels of sexual consciousness, a few things have been made abundantly clear to me, in particular, my thoughts on God.

During my bohemian art school years, in between hits from the water bong, I was all Morissette'd up on ideas like, "Yeah, like, God is totally a chick, like, for sure, right on!"

Lately, I have done a 180 and I am back firmly with the belief that God is a dude... because of sex. When he was drawing up his grand design for how our fun parts functioned, he could have easily have made the ability to climax with ease a part of the woman's abilities and not the man's. I can see how it wouldn't have be wise that BOTH male and female have this gift of effortless orgasms, since nothing would ever get accomplished and humanity in its entirely would likely still all be living in caves with no indoor plumbing to fucking speak of.

Let us examine two scenarios and see which one make more sense, shall we?

ONEGuy: I'm close, baby. I'm about to cum.Girl: I'm not even close. Do you want me to slow down?Guy: You can try, but I don't have long! Oh, fuck. I'm done.Girl: Can you help me finish?Guy: Sure baby, gimmie a second to recover.(2 minutes later) Snoring.Girl, annoyed, gets out vibrator and finishes on her own.

TWOGirl: I'm going to cum. Ooohh, here it comes. Ahhhhh.Guy: I still have a ways to go, but I love your screams.Girl: It feels amazing. Keep going, honey!Guy: Do you want to switch positions?Girl: Sure. Ooohh, here comes another one!!Guy: It's going to be a little while still. Are you OK to keep going?Girl: Yeah, baby. I can keep going. No problem.(2 minutes later) Ahhh. Here's another one!!Guy: OK, I'm ready. Ahhhh.Girl and guy both exhausted and satisfied... every time.

See? Now, the first scenario is a more believable situation than the second, because guys can climax so much easier but then cannot recover quickly; if it was reversed, wouldn't they both have a much more well-rounded experience?

Also. If you happen to be a woman that CAN climax that easily, I don't want to hear about it. Shut the fuck up, seriously. This post is not about your euphoric exception to the status quo. Good for you, though.

Good. For. You.

So, back to my original point, seeing as this is my conclusion, I need to reiterate my original thesis like a good girl. God most definitely is a guy because of the first scenario. Here is how I would like to think it all went down on Day Six.

God: I love my penis. Penises are cool. Why would I make THAT difficult for the little guy to do with his penis? That's just silly. I'll make it nice and easy for him. Score. Punch it in!(2 minutes later) Her? Meh. I really don't care. She can fucking work for it.

Aug 12, 2011

9 times out of 10, the concept of bullying is fairly straight forward… except in my case, of course. I would like to think, or rather, I would hope that in today’s more holistic understanding of a child's psyche that the situation I found myself in would have been handled differently than it was in the early 90s. (Although I believe even back then it was poorly dealt with.)

It began in grade 5 with a girl named Lynda; Lynda was not even in my class. People, whether it be peers or adults, always perceived me as the leader, and though I may have leadership qualities, I wasn’t really ever at the driver’s seat of the girly mob… I was just the loudest, that’s all. Some of my friends in Lynda’s class decided to pick on her. She was shy, homely and had less-than-cool clothes – the typical prey for a pack of vicious 11 year old girls. My friends wanted to make a song about her – to make fun of her. Now, I’m not proud of this, but obviously I was the prodigious song writer behind this project. It was to the tune of “Bad to the Bone” and went like this:

One day I came to school, Du-na-nu-na-na
Lynda was dead, Du-na-nu-na-na;
A bus came down the street, Du-na-nu-na-na
And ran over her head, Du-na-nu-na-na.

I know it’s terrible, but I have to laugh about my thought processes as an 11 year old; I guess I’ve always been a poet, a fucking little bitch, but still a poet.

Now after admitting that less-than-stellar moment from my childhood, I can honestly say that was the ONLY mean thing I EVER did to that girl – but unbeknownst to me at the time, I had inadvertently begun a 4-year war, however completely controlled by Lynda.

It started with her small, petty tattling, like I had said something or took something from her; stupid shit like that. By the time grade 6 rolled around (and the cruel fates then had us in the same class now) it had escalated so badly that I was a regular fixture outside the Principal’s office. It was ridiculous and frankly annoying the fuck out of me considering I wasn’t doing or saying anything – to which the teachers would then accuse me of lying. In fact, I would go out of my way to avoid her; not ignore her, AVOID her – she was crazy and completely out to get me. By the end of grade 6, I was threatened with suspension if I didn’t start “making an effort” to be nice to her. My parents had to get involved by this point.

There was a bit of a lull in 7th grade, but the tension was always there. They made sure we were separated into different classes. Boys had begun harassing her by then and they were being out-rightly cruel to her, yet she NEVER complained about them, not even once. The climax didn’t occur until grade 8 when, during a school trip to Quebec, she had proclaimed to the teachers that I had threatened to kill her and her family.

WHOA! We were getting into serious shit now.

You would THINK that some alarm bells would have tingled by this point, but nope. I was completely screwed over that particular incident. They never believed my word; the word of the popular and outgoing girl against that of poor little Lynda. This event also ruined my once-positive relationship with my teachers; it was a nightmare.

The last so-called altercation with Lynda that I distinctly remember was near the end of that year. I was in the hall with a boy from our class and we were laughing about something. She came around the corner and dramatically threw herself against the opposing lockers and screamed, “WHAT NOW? WHAT ARE YOU SAYING ABOUT ME NOW, STEPHANIE?” Both me and the boy I was with just stood there, stunned.

I made the decision to go to a different high school than everyone else; which even trumped a reunion with Kevin! I had many reasons, but one of the top 2 was to get the hell away from that girl. I knew that her obsession with torturing me would follow us into high school and I had to put an end to it. How bizarre that I was perceived the bully throughout all of this. There I was, the “bully”, changing schools to get away from the apparent “victim”. Isn't it usually the other way around?

Fast forward a decade. I had become privy to some top secret information: Lynda had been hospitalized for being a paranoid schizophrenic. NO, REALLY? Again, I would like to think that with today’s greater understanding about mental health that they could have, no, they SHOULD have caught it sooner instead of automatically assuming that it was a simple case of bullying, with ME being the bully.

Do I feel different about her now that I know she was sick that entire time?
Of course.
Does it change the fact that 4 years of primary school completely blew donkey nuts for me?
No.

Is there a lesson in all of this? YES!
Don't always assume that kids are lying, or disregard their opinions and concerns solely because of their young age.
They know more than you think; listen to them.

Aug 10, 2011

Although I attempt to convince people on a regular basis that I am, in fact, not an idiot, I have recently done two things that have pretty much put me back at the starting line, so to speak.

Last week, there was my stellar health scare, brought on solely by my absent mindedness. Then, yesterday, a friend posted a photo on their Facebook page of two people wearing "I Love DP" t-shirts. They were apparently marketing for Dr. Pepper.

OK. So, the stream of comments continued to go to a dirty, dirty place but just hinting at the under-lying innuendos and not actually spelling it out. Luckily, I was smart enough NOT to post my question on Facebook, but I inquired privately. What the hell is so funny? What is the OTHER meaning for DP? Am I missing something here?

Response: Are you fucking serious?

No, I'm joking. (eye roll) OF COURSE I'm serious.

Ummm, Double Penetration? Duh!

Awe, shit. Nope. I never would have guessed that. And to make things even more embarrassing, I asked my husband if he knew what it was and he said it straight away - and also laughed at me - and he doesn't know sweet fuck all about anything dirty! It was a sad and disappointing day for Lady Estrogen.

------------------------------On a side note, my husband has begun referring to Lady Estrogen as ifshe's another person apart from myself. It's fucking hysterical.------------------------------

Regardless of what some people might have come to think of me as being one way, whether it be on this blog, Twitter or in 'real life', I am not, in fact, a walking, talking encyclopedia of dirty phrases. Do I wish I was? Well, that's besides the point! After all, Sue Johanson is my hero. The reality is, however, that I am not. In order to redeem myself, here's a list of twenty phrases that I actually do know:

Aug 8, 2011

This week's theme for Monday Music Moves Me is bands that start with M. Well, two of my favorite band begin with M, so I thought it was going to be a no-brainer - Machine Gun Fellatio and Marianas Trench. The problem is that I didn't want to be a broken record, since I have used both of them in past features already.

I can be repetitive in my day-to-day life so I am making an extra effort not to be repetitive on this site. So, I dug a littler deeper.

The dialogue is funny and honest and although the story line is rather transparent and predictable, it is a great romantic comedy. It also emits many pre-Sex in the City vibes. Every time I listen to my Mary Me Jane soundtrack, I think of the parts in the movie that used those songs and I fall in love all over again.

Oh, and it's about artists. Bonus points right there.

Joe (Eric Schaeffer) is infatuated with Jane (Elle Macpherson) who lives in the adjacent building. He can see her through his window and he stalks paints her enough times that he holds an entire art show with all these paintings of her - just so he can invite and finally meet her after 5 years of supposedly being "in love" with her.

He is dorky and awkward and I absolutely love him in this movie –
he is the perfection of an antihero.

One of my favorite conversations from the movie:

Jane: I love your paintings.Joe: Really?Jane: Yeah, really.Joe: Can I ask you something?Jane: Yeah.Joe: Are you involved with anyone?Jane: Yes.Joe: Who?Jane: Him. (She gestures to the man in the painting entitled 'Limp Dick Man')Joe: Really?Jane: He does have quite a limp dick. But he gives the best damn head ever.

And then Joe gives THEE best shocked/turned on/recoiled expression that I cannot even describe accurately.
Just watch the movie... and of course, enjoy the music as well.

Aug 5, 2011

It is mostly likely an isolated occurrence that I will post anything like this, but I was laughing so hard when it took place, tears were streaming down my face. Thank you, Gmail, for recording every word of all my gChats. I never thought it had a purpose until this very moment. Since it was essentially instigated by the Studio30Plus writing prompt, I am taking the liberty in saying that this still totally counts. Fuck yeah, it does!

2:17 PM me: I'm trying to do a funny poem about my weird habits... I needed a rhyme idea for the word "few".. of course, Stu came up. hahaha

2:18 PM Stu: ha ha

me: don't think I'll use that one though

2:22 PM Stu: you can use me how you like

me: you say that, but then every time I try, you scold me ;)

2:24 PM Stu: well there is a time and place darling

2:25 PM me: humfh

2:27 PM Fine, then. I WILL put you as a weird habit of mine. lol

Stu: that is probably true

me: what? that you're a habit?

2:29 PM Stu: a weird habit

2:30 PM me: best one I've ever had then... apart from counting and sorting M&Ms

2:32 PM and twirling my hair

or biting the sides of my fingers

2:33 PM OK, but you'd definitely be in the Top 5.

Stu: mmm I want m&m's

me: Me too

2:34 PM but I would need to sort them by color and quantity

like an M&M bar graph

2:35 PM It is truly a beautiful thing when it's all laid out.

2:36 PM If math was that yummy, I probably would have been much better at it

2:37 PM you've gone to get M&Ms, haven't you?

2:38 PM Stu: no, was working.

They taste all the same you know

2:39 PM me: that's not the point

2:40 PM The blue ones are simply superior!

2:41 PM Stu: this is probably one of the dumbest conversations we have ever had

2:42 PM me: this makes me happy

Fuck the poem, I'm just going to use this conversation

2:43 PM because, really, I can't make this shit up

GOLDEN SHIT

2:44 PM if it came in silver, bronze and platinum, I'd sort all that shit too

2:46 PM platinum would be on top

I like being on top

Stu: so you are now sorting your shit?

2:47 PM me: only if it was made of precious metals

otherwise? no.

2:48 PM I love how you ignored my sexual innuendo just then

2:51 PM Stu: well you went from sorting feces to riding me. Not exactly the image I want

2:53 PM me: HA! "Golden" feces, babe

2:54 PM Stu: don't care

shit is still shit

2:55 PM me: Fine. Back to M&Ms then?

Stu: sure ya weirdo

2:56 PM me: you do realize that you've just helped me with my post for tonight, right?

Aug 3, 2011

I am taking this opportunity to discuss my latest health crisis as well as pay homage to one of my oldest friends.
It was his birthday a few days ago, so the timing is almost perfect.

This guy is special because, surprisingly, we've never had sex. I think the main reasons for this was because:
A) I could snap him like a twig; it would not be pleasant, and
B) I kind of helped raise him, even though he's actually a year older than me.

I think I may have had a shortly lived case of misplaced affections towards him when I was 12, but then he went and got a perm and that pretty much helped me move on from there.

Yes. A perm.
(Sorry, but he's never going to fucking live that one down. Not ever. If he dies before me, I'll make a point of mentioning it at his funeral, because that's what true friendship really means. If I die before him, I'll still figure something out.)

And no, he's not gay.

And yes, he's a boy... or since he has a hot wife and two cool kids, rather, a man. Kinda.

He's like my son, or perhaps my man-sister from another mister...

Or my bestie with a flat chestie...

My rock with a cock.

See where I'm going with this? OK. Hold that thought.

In other news, I recently almost died from Toxic Shock. It wasn't pretty. In fact, it was slightly terrifying with a dash of mortification. The doctor laughed at my horror, telling me it happens all the time. Not to fucking me, it doesn't! I've watched all the doctor shows, thank you. I do not shove strange foreign objects up my cootch such as light bulbs, hot dogs, carrots or baseball bats.

Wait. What?

OK. I'll re-phrase. In the last two decades, anyway, it's just been the usual boxed set: Dildos, fingers, penises and tampons... ugh... tampons. Umm, yeah.

Why are these two trains of thought related, you ask?

Well, I was speaking to him on the phone the other day, revealing these latest embarrassing details.

His immediate response: "How does that happen to you? Shouldn't it have just fallen out? I thought you had a giant vagina!"

Awesome.

Apparently, it's giant enough that I had no idea it was up there, but not giant enough that it could fall out on its own. All I knew was that I was dying from the inside. Actually, not dying. Dead. And rotting.

So, thank you, my darling, for the vote of confidence for my huge vagina. Unfortunately, she, too, has now proven to be fallible.
It was truly a sad day, indeed.

Also? Happy fucking birthday to one of only two men* that openly converse on the size and state of my vagina.

A drawing by him. Not sure what's going on there.
His creative mind is disturbing, even at the best of times.
I love him.

(*PS. For the record, the other man is not my husband. He does not discuss such things. :-)

Anyhow! I asked her to edit the little two-part love story that I composed a short while ago and she most graciously agreed. Shortly after, I received her comments. She not only edited my work, she totally dissected it. Only one of true awesomeness can so effectively edit like this.

I've been fucking schooled, yo!

I had to reduce the size so it would all fit in the blog, but some of the comments brought tears of laughter to my eyes. Also, I want to point out that there are many things that Kris has shot down that I actually had written ON PURPOSE, which just also implies that I meant to write like a fool and she's called me out on it. She likely thought they were over-sights on my part. Sadly, no. On purpose, babe. On. Fucking. Purpose.

I don't expect you to attempt to read her notes. Just enjoy the sight of all the redness. However, I'm sure you can make out the word "Delete" - it's fairly easy to spot.

Some of my personal favourites:

"She is not impressed with his memory skills, is she?" (Umm, no)

"He is annoying me."

"Ummm . . .this position is not effortless. Just saying."

"...the repeated use of the word “hard” here makes me giggle, as I imagine him erect in his sadness. Ahem."

And the best one, ever...

"You use more semi-colons than many writers, and this particular one is incorrect and distracting."

She signed off the email with: "And as I said? Talent, babe. A lovely story."

Why do I not believe that anymore? Good save though, Kris!

Kris, I love you. Thank you very much for bending me over. It does well to bludgeon my false sense of grandeur every now and then, similar to a vigorous game of Wack-A-Mole. However, I'm suggesting once a year is quite enough.

Because let's face it, I rather enjoy living in this cozy cocoon of my own delusions.